Eclipsing the Darkness (The Dragon Chronicles Book 5)

by Shawn E. Crapo

  “The One?”

  “The Uncreated,” Faeraon said, simply.

  “These are strange things you speak of, Faeraon,” Traegus said. “It is far beyond anything I have ever considered.”

  “Our search for enlightenment is what gave us our immortality. We ascended above the creators’ imprisonment in order to learn everything we could before our passing. That is why we do not die.”

  “And that is why the Lifegiver sought to destroy you,” Eamon realized. “And why he has targeted Gaia throughout time and space.”

  Faeraon nodded. “She is the Mother of Enlightenment; a fragment of the Uncreated, enslaved by the lesser powers to bring the sentient energy into material form.”

  “For what purpose?”

  Faeraon looked at him in sorrow. “To bring us the pain and suffering of existence for their own amusement.”

  Traegus moved closer, his eyes turned downward as he formulated an idea. “Then the Lifegiver seeks to undo creation to return that energy to his own realm.”

  Faeraon nodded. “That which was stolen to bring the Universe into being.”

  “Then who or what is the Keeper?” Eamon wondered aloud.

  Faeraon shook his head. “He may be another fragment of the Uncreated, sent here to bring enlightenment.”

  “I got the impression he was a human once.” Eamon said.

  “Not human,” Traegus said. “He is simply a messenger in the form of a man. It was he who created the first druids, and who chose Farouk to be his successor here on Earth. Now, he watches and keeps the planes of existence to gather those who have achieved enlightenment. Absu wants only the energy. He cares nothing for the sentient spirits that are enslaved here.”

  “I do,” Eamon said then. “And his reign of terror ends now.”

  He drew the Serpent’s Tongue, moving to the depressed area in the center of the chamber. Faeraon and Traegus remain at the edge, and the wizard pulled the Druaga’s orb from his robes. Eamon looked upward, holding his blade above his head. It began to glow, bringing the runes on the wall to life.

  They were alight with the same violet-colored energy that powered the rest of the structure. It cast an invisible light on everything around them, causing everything to glow with a strange iridescence.

  “Show yourself!” Eamon shouted. “Show yourself and face your doom!”

  There was silence as the three waited. Then, as the runes grew brighter, a rumbling echoed from overhead. The vaulted ceiling flared into life with a circle of lights that surrounded an iris-like portal. The four sections moved, separating and sliding open with a grinding of stone and metal. The entire chamber shook as they locked into place. Eamon stepped back to avoid the debris that fell to the floor.

  Eamon saw Traegus moving around the other side of the chamber, directly across from him. The wizard held the orb behind his back, and gripped his staff tightly.

  “Show yourself!” Eamon shouted again.

  “Onyx Dragon,” an echoing voice whispered from above. “King of Eirenoch. Lord of Dragons. I have waited long for this day.”

  “Your wait is over,” Eamon said. “I have come to send you back to the darkness.”

  Deep laughter bellowed from the vault, shaking the chamber once more. Eamon gripped the Serpent’s Tongue tighter, his fear overwhelming.

  “I am the darkness,” the Lifegiver said. “All darkness emanates from me.”

  “Then go back to your realm and never return!”

  Blinding light burst from the vault, causing Eamon to shield his eyes and back away as far to the edge as he could go. His back pressed against the lower wall, and his feet struggled to maintain their grip on the hard, smooth floor. A mass of dark clouds descended, seeming infinite in size as it crept down like ghostly wisps of dark flame.

  The black tendrils reached to the floor before the greater bulk finally came through. It was a swirling mass of dark energy, alight with flashing bolts of purple magic that shot throughout its mass like lightning. The laughter continued until the chamber was filled with the Lifegiver’s presence.

  Eamon gazed at the entity with loathing. His heart was sickened by the raw power of darkness that exuded from the Lifegiver’s form. He could see the faces of the millions of victims whose spirits had been absorbed. They screamed in silence, each of them appearing and disappearing at random, fighting to escape the doom of oblivion.

  “As you can see,” the Lifegiver said. “Your presence does not concern me. You are nothing; as is all of your kind.”

  Footsteps echoed from the outer platform as Faeraon neared the edge of the lower floor. The Lifegiver’s laughter echoed once more as the Alvar king was lit by the dark energy.

  “Faeraon,” the Lifegiver whispered. “You are still among the living.”

  “Yes,” Faeraon replied. “You did not defeat me.”

  The dark mass of tendrils stretched toward the Alvar in a beckoning gesture. “Come to me, my old friend,” the Lifegiver said. “You have suffered long enough. You are undeserving of the pain of existence. Come with me and I will free you of this prison.”

  Eamon felt an odd sensation building within him. His blood seemed to boil, and his mind was jolted by the power of the equations that flashed within. He reached into his belt and gripped the gem that Shemya had completed, letting its power of understanding flow into him. Little by little, the equations arranged themselves in his mind. They lined up in proper form, making more and more sense as they showed themselves to him.

  Traegus revealed the orb from behind his back, and Eamon focused his vision on it as the wizard turned the two halves in opposite directions. He caught Traegus’ eye as Faeraon spoke.

  “I will persist in whatever realm I am meant to inhabit,” he said. “I will transcend this realm through my enlightenment, and you will return from whence you came.”

  The Lifegiver boomed with laughter again, turning his attention back to Eamon as the king finally stood straight and stepped forward. Eamon’s breath was quickened. His heart pounded, threatening to burst from his chest in some macabre explosion. He held up his fist, gripping the gem tightly, smiling as he opened his fingers.

  “Absu,” Eamon spoke. “You are not welcome here.”

  As Eamon released the spell, Traegus tossed the orb into the air. It whizzed upward, spinning with incredible speed and whirring with a growing crescendo of unearthly sounds. Eamon’s gem exploded with a burst of blinding light and a deafening boom that rivalled anything the trio had ever heard. A translucent wall of power rushed at the Lifegiver’s mass, drawing with it the power of the spell.

  The Lifegiver howled with rage as the crushing wave compacted his dark form, shredding the tendrils of energy and forcing them into material form. Eamon collapsed, looking up toward the orb. It flared into life, opening a violently spinning portal of darkness.

  The matter and anti-matter of Absu’s mass reacted, flaring into annihilation as the two forms collided. The resulting force spiraled into the void like a whirlpool, swirling around it violently before it was drawn in. The chamber shook violently, bursting the runes that lined the walls. The chaos was deafening. Lightning flashed from the void as it fed upon the creative force of the explosion.

  Eamon and Faeraon covered their eyes and turned their heads, gritting their teeth with the pain of the destructive aura of nothingness.

  Then, all was silent. The chamber was black once again, save for the faint glow of the portal. Black fog covered the chamber floor, swirling and writhing as it was forced away by a form in its center. Faint flashes of purple erupted from the mass of darkness, lighting the chamber in random bursts of violent energy.

  Faeraon stepped down onto the lower area, taking position a ways away from Eamon. The two waited, staring at the dark form that crouched within the ethereal fog. Traegus also stood ready, his staff gathering energy for a spell.

  A low growl echoed from within the fog, lowering in frequency to the point of rumbling the floor. Eamon gritted his teeth,
prepared for whatever would appear. The growling turned to a hiss, and then grew to a cacophonous song of millions of screaming souls.

  Slowly, from the depths of the dark fog, Absu stood.

  The charging undead met a wall of flame as the Priests of Drakkar released their breath. Dozens were incinerated immediately, blasted into cinders in the intense heat. Others kept coming, oblivious to the flames that consumed them. The janni shot forth into their front line, smashing them away and twirling with their blades. The Jindala, packed closely together, formed a wall of spears that impaled the attacking ghouls. Behind them, the archers fired arrows their heads.

  Farouk released a wave of power that blasted the foes back. His blade went to work, cutting down those that had dodged the thousands of spears. Torak fought beside him, his teeth bared as he growled with the lust of battle.

  The ghoulish army was weaponless, attacking with only their teeth and claws; but their numbers were great, and they could easily overrun the united forces unless their master was destroyed.

  “Erenoth!” Farouk shouted. The priest clawed his way through the horde to reach him, and the druid hopped on his back. “Take me up,” he said. “We need to find the Corrupter.”

  Erenoth leaped into the air, his wings taking them high above the battlefield. Farouk searched desperately for Malthor with eagle’s eyes, casting spells to improve his vision. “He must be toward the rear flank,” Farouk said. “Take us there.”

  Erenoth growled, diving to gain speed. They sailed over the writhing army, Erenoth firing the occasional jet of flame to thin them out and light their way. Despite the illuminating fires that spread through the mass of dead flesh, Farouk could see nothing. It was too dark.

  Khalid took command of the Cloud Warriors, leading them straight through the undead in charge attacks. The riders fired their bows while their mounts attacked with claws, fangs, and devastating swipes of their tails. They left a column of dismembered bodies behind them, with piles of them burning to cinders.

  The Alvar had formed an unstoppable line of blades. They attacked fluidly as the undead charged, their weapons striking gracefully and in unison. Some stood behind the line, firing their bows between their kin, expertly timing their arrows with the soldiers’ blades. Soon, they began to march forward, becoming a moving line of death.

  Cannuck cleared the area around him with wild swings of his hammer. He howled the name of Kronos, growling and singing the songs of the north. He then called upon his Valkyries, smashing his hammer into the rocky ground. The clouds split as the divine warriors ascended. They fell upon the undead, sweeping through them effortlessly, leaving a path of destruction in their wake.

  “I see him!” Farouk shouted, pointing to the north.

  Erenoth turned and swooped down, heading straight for the Corruptor. The man stood among the undead, his arms still held up as he pushed his slaves forward. Erenoth fired a jet of flame at the ground, strafing over him and the undead around him. Farouk readied a spell as Erenoth turned for another pass.

  “Get me closer,” he said.

  Erenoth swooped lower, drawing the Corruptor’s attention. The sorcerer scowled, thrusting his claws toward them as they neared. Farouk released a wave of fire that blasted him back, but seemed to do little else. As they passed, he could hear the Corruptor’s cackles.

  “Damn it!” Farouk cursed. “I’ll have to fight him face to face.”

  Erenoth flapped his wings to slow their descent, landing among the undead and crushing them beneath his claws. He spewed a jet of flame around him, swiping his tail, clearing a space for Farouk to dismount.

  “Keep them away from me,” the druid said.

  Erenoth roared at the encroaching horde, keeping close to Farouk as he sought out his target. The druid drew his sword, spinning and dodging as he cut his way through. He saw his target between the dead faces that hissed and moaned their discontent. He chopped at them furiously, his eyes locked on the laughing sorcerer.

  Malthor raised his clawed hands, chanting wildly as he conjured his vile magic. His eyes glowed red as he cast his spell. Red plasma flew from his fingertips as he thrust them forward. The substance burned through the undead on its way to its target. Farouk leaped out of the way, rolling under the feet of the soldiers, rising to his feet, and charging as he chanted a spell of his own.

  He shot lightning from his staff that streaked straight toward the Corruptor. Malthor chuckled, dodging the spell and firing another burst of red plasma. Farouk rolled again, this time landing on solid ground as the last of the undead passed him. A jet of flame from Erenoth enveloped the sorcerer as he approached, but Malthor simply walked straight through it, unaffected. Farouk rolled onto his back, defenseless. His sword and staff were several feet away, and the dark form of the Corruptor was fast approaching.

  Malthor held out his hand, firing another spell that encased Erenoth in a web of silvery strands. The priest struggled to break free, breathing flame at the magical shroud. It held fast, and the priest collapsed to the ground helpless.

  “My revenge will come swiftly, Farouk,” the Corruptor cackled. “You needn’t worry about dying a painful death. The pain will come later, when you are in my domain.”

  The Corruptor raised his arms again, chanting furiously. His face contorted into a rictus grin, exposing his rotting teeth and blackened tongue. Farouk’s heart thumped in his chest as he watched his doom close in.

  Farouk closed his eyes, accepting of his fate. He had made a mistake thinking he could destroy the sorcerer on his own. He was no longer the swordsman he was in the past, and now, he would no longer be a druid.

  The Corruptor’s chanting stopped abruptly, replaced by the sound of choking and gagging. Farouk opened his eyes, seeing the sorcerer’s face stretched in agony. A blade was driven through his back, and protruded through his chest. Farouk rolled toward his sword, snatching it up, and crouching ready to strike.

  The blade was withdrawn from Malthor’s body with a sickening, flesh-grinding sound. The Corruptor stumbled forward, turning to face his attacker. Farouk struggled to see who it was, but the shadows obscured his view. All he could see was a glowing blade striking off the Corruptor’s foul head.

  Farouk stood as the sorcerer’s body collapsed to the ground. Then, the collective sound of thousands of animated corpses collapsing drew his attention. The entire undead army, without its puppet master, was finished. Farouk chuckled as he heard the massive roars of victory from the assembled armies.

  Malthor’s body melted into nothingness, his soul drawn into the blade that had beheaded him. Hamal stood over him, scowling in disgust as he watched the dark flesh rot before his very eyes. Erenoth cursed from nearby as he cut himself free with his blades. Again, Farouk chuckled.

  “Who was that?” Hamal asked.

  “The Corruptor,” Farouk replied, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “A servant of the Lifegiver.”

  “Not anymore,” Hamal said, smiling.

  “Thank you for saving me, my friend,” Farouk said. “His presence had a strange effect on my magic.”

  “I felt compelled to destroy him. He did not belong here somehow.”

  “What has happened at Khem?” Farouk asked, changing the subject.

  “I killed Atuzoth, the Gatekeeper. At least, something that looked like him.”

  Farouk nodded. “What of Eamon? When was the last time you saw him?”

  “He was headed into the pyramid with Traegus and Faeraon. I stayed behind to battle the beast.”

  “Come then, my king,” Farouk said respectfully. “Your people have returned to us.”

  Indeed, as Hamal turned to the approaching army, the Jindala among them fell to their knees. Hamal looked upon them proudly; glad to see that the spell over them had been broken.

  “Their hate is gone,” he said, smiling. “They no longer bear the countenance of darkness.”

  He went to them, touching their bowed heads as he passed. Farouk watched him with awe, also glad to
see that the people of Khem had found their rightful king. Hamal was a man who would rule fairly, and justly. Farouk would be proud to see him on the throne of Khem.

  “Hail King Ardumak!” he shouted. “The Son of Imbra!”

  Chapter Thirty One

  Eamon watched the Lifegiver’s vile form rise from the darkness. The dark gray, alien body glistened in the flickering light that filled the chamber, highlighting the skeletal, chitinous shell that encased him. He appeared as a massive defiler; exceedingly tall, long-limbed, and bearing the sharp horns and talons of some insectoid demon. His armored carapace was a sickly grayish color, marbled with veins of black and pale violet. Four long, segmented, and spiny tentacles sprouted from his back, ending in sharp, curved spikes that gleamed like steel.

  The Lifegiver turned his terrifying head toward Eamon. His face was corpse-like, with hollow, black eyes, and a fanged, lipless maw that was clenched shut in a horrid rictus grin. Thick saliva dripped from the narrow teeth, splattering outward as the Lifegiver breathed.

  Eamon stepped back as the dark eyes focused on him. He felt the Serpent’s Tongue pulse as the power of the Dragon beckoned him, calling on him to ignore his fear. Though he heard the call, his mind was frozen, and his courage seemed chained up within. He was terrified.

  The powerful tentacles rose up, swirling around the Lifegiver’s head as his frightening form crouched to attack. His maw opened wide, stretching to an impossible width that could swallow a man. The long, needle-like fangs were menacing, and gleaming with venom that dripped as he hissed. Eamon’s skin crawled as he beheld Absu’s horrible form. His heart began pounding, and his grip tightened around the hard leather wrappings of his sword. From somewhere, deep inside, he felt the urge to move.

  A blast of magic struck the Lifegiver from behind, bringing Eamon out of his daze. Absu screeched in rage, spinning around and whipping a tentacle at Traegus. The wizard dodged, firing another blast of magic that whizzed right by the monster’s head. Eamon and Faeraon went into action, rushing toward the skeletal legs.